


5+1 times that five remembers and the one time he didn't have to

by Im_The_Daddy_Here



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Delores counts to me okay, Don't Like Don't Read, Emotionally Confused Five, I don't really write so, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Klive - Freeform, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Five, Pseudo-Incest, Rating May Change, Self-Indulgent, The Umbrella Academy (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, Time Travel Is Messy, depends on if I actually decide to write real smut, he's actually like 58, no beta we die like men, no more problems au, pseudo-underage, there's going to be angst, this will end happy though, we already go through enough as it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_The_Daddy_Here/pseuds/Im_The_Daddy_Here
Summary: A series of events which take Five back to simpler days, and how sometimes things change, but it doesn't always have to be for the worse.Alternatively: The only person who knows Five better than Vanya would be Klaus, although most wouldn't realize it. There was always something off about their relationship, yet it rarely garnered attention. They all grew up learning each other's eccentric ticks, but Five's absence makes him an enigma.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 9
Kudos: 117





	1. Pink and Amber

**Author's Note:**

> Blame the klive discord for inspiring me. They're all so lovely and I couldn't help myself. I don't write often though, so It's probably not great, but some content is better than no content, right? Maybe aggressively OOC as well, but at this point, fuck it. If you like it, I'm glad!

Five jumped onto the couch as quietly as he could, energy dissipating behind him as he shallowed out his breath. He kept his head down and made sure his too small body was hidden behind the backrest. This had been going on for weeks after they had returned, loath as he was to admit it. It was strange. After so many years of nothing, of the silence, following him throughout the wasteland, seeing his family just walking throughout the house was exhilarating. He had done it. He had made it back, he had saved his family, and he had fixed the timeline. Being able to see them _happy_ was more than he could have hoped for. It felt as if he was drunk on the normality of it all. Their daily routines were a balm on his ragged soul and being able to merely observe those intricate rituals was becoming something of an addiction for him. If Delores could see him now, his pride would never recover. If his family found him out, he would die on the spot. Hell, even he was disappointed with himself. He thought he at least had some dignity remaining but apparently not.

Thus, he snuck around the house watching them on occasion. It was perfectly healthy and normal. 

He would watch Luther make himself vile protein shakes before the gym. He might have tried a little after he left. For science.

He’d observe Allison write and throw away letters to Claire. He had a couple of the better ones tucked away for future reference, saved from the bin at the last moment. One day he wanted to meet Claire, if only to see the way that little girl strung up the moon and stars for Allison.

Even Vanya came by on occasion, the gentle creeping melodies from her room being the only mark of her presence. 

But it had been awhile since anyone had stopped by the Mansion, so when he had heard the front door creak open, every muscle in his body had clenched as adrenaline coursed through his veins. It had been months since shit went down, but old habits die hard. Hearing Klaus call into the seemingly empty house had instantly soothed him. He set down the pistol. He didn’t remember grabbing it. In some ways he was glad Delores was dead, as horrible as it was to think this. He certainly didn’t miss her nagging, and the old hag would have had a field day with that one. Craning his ear towards the door, he listened to the footsteps, made a guess as to where Klaus was, and then jumped. This brought him back to the present, where he was currently curled up tightly on the couch.

Five listened. Judging by Klaus’ haphazard breathing and stuttering footsteps, the man was not sober. He wasn’t surprised, but the realization still made something curl in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t like it. His own mental Delore’s scoffed at him, saying he was one to talk. His late father’s depleting alcohol reserves were a blaring testament to his own failings. Drunk or not, such a thing didn’t escape Klaus’ notice either as the man perused the liquor cabinet.

“Well, you’ve certainly been busy Five.”

The comment was chuckled out without much thought, but it rang out in the large room like a gunshot. Five grit his teeth. He forced himself to breath. Blowing his cover wouldn’t do him any good. He had bigger fish to fry. What those fish were, well that was up to debate, but he could figure that out later. The clinking of glasses signaled the end of Klaus’ victorious little booze raid. Five listened as Klaus’ footsteps got fainter and fainter, and he risked stealing a look at his surroundings. 

Klaus had his back turned towards him. His body swayed to an invisible beat, and his clothes were tight but shockingly clean considering the man had been missing for weeks. His soft hum was quiet and honest, a sharp contrast to Five’s typical rigid composure, and the boy took solace in this. Some things didn’t change, no matter how hard the world decided to fuck you over. He watched Klaus pull out an outdated MP3 player and fumble with cords. Eventually a [ rich voice ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjN4rOBZV2s)began to play out of a dusty pair of forgotten speakers, and Klaus’ delighted cry did something to Five. His throat felt tight. He stubbornly ignored it. Klaus’ moves became more exaggerated, and the Seance closed his eyes, losing himself to the pulsing beat. Klaus lightly chewed on his lip after taking a sloppy slip from his glass. The pink contrasted the amber in his cup and it somehow felt nostalgic. Five watched on, mind drifting.

When he had actually been as old as his body suggested, Five had been forced to play piano. All his siblings had been made to play some sort of instrument, though other than Vanya he had seemed to be the only one who had kept up with practice. He recalled that the new rules had been met with a glum acceptance, with the exception of one. Klaus had chosen to play trombone after being vetoed out of the flute. He had been extremely ecstatic at the prospect for whatever reason. Even Reginald had eventually conceded to that being a mistake. Four specifically learned to play theme songs for one reason and one reason only: to make them sound like shit. At one point Klaus had brought out his damned trombone in the middle of a mission. The squeaks of the Mission Impossible theme still most likely haunted Luther to this day. This spoke nothing to the weeks where Klaus had shadowed each of his siblings for hours, butchering their favorite songs without end. The more you responded, the worse he played, and after a few months of this, Reginald had lifted the mandatory lessons for everyone but Vanya. What his sibling’s hadn’t realized though is that Klaus actually had an ear for music, picking up the melodies easily after a few listens. He might have covered it up with his obnoxious cries for attention, but Five noticed his talents, albeit begrudgingly. 

It had been a groggy afternoon like this when Five had actually seen Klaus _use_ those talents. In hindsight, Klaus might have been a little tipsy, but at the time he hadn’t really noticed. He had been sneaking his way to the kitchen for a snack when the music had caught his attention. It had been loud, loud enough to make the ground beneath his socks vibrate with the [ bass](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n84cYR5U98Q). It instantly pissed him off. Klaus was so thoughtless, a never ending aggravation, it was like he was asking to be attacked. If Five actually stopped to think about it, it almost made him feel… pity. Why would Four do that to himself? He was literally asking for disdain. 

Five didn’t stop though. 

He marched his way to Number Four’s door and caught himself just barely from throwing it open. Making even more noise would get them both busted, and no matter how annoyed he was, he wasn’t stupid enough to rat himself out. The boy ended up with the door half open, seeing red and his tongue poised to strike, but the words died on his lips. Klaus was singing. With his door shut, it was enough to drown out his voice, but now Five could hear the way Klaus was belting it out. Jumping around his room, one hand clutching his hair and the other clenched around the amber neck of a beer bottle tilted towards his mouth, he was stunning. It was raw. It was honest in a way he hadn’t been since he was a little kid. He hadn’t been aware any of the Hargreeves' family could be this open anymore. Distantly, he figured this is why Klaus was doing this at fuck all o-clock in the morning. No one was supposed to see this. Everyone was to go on, thinking Four was a jackass who played his music too loud just to spite his siblings, leaving them none the wiser to the hurt so apparent on the Seance’s face. The song looped, and Klaus’ voice hitched on the chorus, and the noise raked down Five’s entire body, causing the boy to shiver. In the dim glow of the fairy lights that surrounded Klaus’s bed, his cheeks glinted unnaturally. They were wet. A soft little “oh” noise left Five. Involuntary.

As if broken from a trance, Klaus whipped around. The two locked eyes. A deer in the headlights, panic consumed Five, his face flushing to a burning, heated, red. 

He hadn’t even realized he had jumped. His hand was still clenched around a door knob that wasn’t there. His knuckles were white, and the mild tremors did nothing but stoke the flames of self-loathing rising in him.

God, what had he been thinking? Klaus had seen him standing there like a basic simpleton with his mouth hanging open. He deserved to fucking choke on a fly. How could he have been so stupid? Klaus was never going to let him live this down. Panic jumping? What was he, seven? He broke his own personal record for distance, jumping from the kitchen all the way back to his room, and the familiar feel of energy thrumming around him did nothing to clear the sour taste from his mouth. He didn’t sleep well, thoughts still hung up on the ragged melody coming from Klaus’ room.

The next morning, Five had sat at the dinner table, waiting for his inevitable demise. It never came, and Five refused to admit he was relieved. He supposed Klaus wasn’t as much an idiot as he had thought or at the very least had some dilapidated reserves of self preservation somewhere in him. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to look at Four, and apparently the feeling was mutual. By lunchtime, even Luther had picked up that something was amiss. It wouldn’t be long before someone started asking questions. He had to fix this.

Dinner had come and went with no progress being made, much to Five’s chagrin. Four could be damn allusive when he wanted to be and he apparently wanted nothing to do with Five. He had even resorted to actively choosing Four as a sparring partner as a last ditch effort, drawing literally everyone’s attention. He had promptly been shot down. It had been humiliating. Five’s fingernails dug into his palms as he paced around his room, reliving the day’s failures. Why? Still, like a broken radio, all day long his mind had played that One. Fucking. Song. on loop, haunting him with the memory of soft pink lips glistening in the dim yellow lights. God fucking damn it. It made no sense. It was such an arbitrary fact. It should mean nothing to him, but replaying the scene in his head made his heart pound and he felt ill. He needed to clear his head before he started jumping. Again. Last night’s panic jump had been nothing but a fluke, and if he let it become a habit he would be ruined. That in mind he left his room, keeping his footsteps light and his demeanor unapproachable, lest someone try to bother him. Swiftly crossing the hallway, he jumped his way into the attic, making his ways towards the back. The path was familiar and well travelled despite the dust. He just had a specific route he took, to ensure no one knew about his little habits. Absentmindedly, he rested his hand on an antique table, strewn about and stacked on a matching dining room set. It had been awhile since he had snuck his way up here, and he took this opportunity as a moment to breathe before making three short jumps. Various forgotten relics were stacked towards the back of the room, creating a narrow maze throughout the space. The upright piano he ended up by was essentially hidden from the rest of the house, creating a secret space only he knew about. The heavy rugs and decaying carpets he had found to drape over the makeshift walls absorbed a lot of noise, creating a natural looking soundproof barrier. He could probably scream and still remain unnoticed. It was his own personal decrepit haven.

Lifting the amber wood cover up away from the keys, he blew away a cobweb. He at last let himself focus on the melody which had been nagging at him all day.

Salt, sweat

Sugar on the asphalt

Our hearts littering the topsoil

Tune in and

We can get the last call

Our lives, are cold

Plucking out notes, he hummed absently the tones he was trying to match. The piano wasn’t perfectly in tune, but it served his purposes well enough. Minutes passed, and eventually he had the melody down well enough, the rest of the song too foggy in his mind for him to attempt. Next came a left hand, where he would need to riddle out chords. He tutted out the base lines he remembered in an effort to guess the progression, and the tension that had been lurking over him all day was finally released.

It took him probably around forty five minutes to confidently play the riff, and he had been pleased with that. One last time, he took it from the beginning.

Salt, sweat

“Sugar on the asphalt.”

His hands flinched uncontrollably, making him hit a sour note.

“Relax,” Klaus said casually. “I can’t tell anyone about last night without fucking myself over, and you can’t say anything without ratting yourself out, Mr. Goody Two Shoes. We’re at a stalemate.”

“How did you even find me?” Five growled, body instinctively curling in on itself. 

“I found a handprint, though it took me forever to find your little cubby hole, if that helps any?”

It really didn’t.

“Look, I promise I won’t tell anyone about this. Just hear me out, okay?” Four’s frantic gesture finally gave away his nerves, and Five could feel himself giving in. He had wanted to clear things up anyways, so this was probably for the best. 

“I’m listening, but this better be good.” Five curtly stated, turning to glare at the taller boy.

“I’m sorry I ignored you today, I was just fucking embaressed okay? We’re not exactly known for our emotional availability in this house. I thought you would make fun of me, but I kind of realized that maybe I was fucking up when I turned down your sparring offer. ” Four nervously shifted his weight from side to side while he spoke, his eyes looking anywhere but Five’s face.

“In my defence though, you hit like a motherfucker when you're angry. Even Luther is preferable to that.” 

Five astutely ignored the warmth in his chest at the backhanded praise. Silence filled the room for a moment, before Klaus broke it again.

“Aw, fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know why-”

“Okay.” Five stated.

A pause.

“Okay?” Replied Four, his voice sounding shrill.

“Yeah, okay, we’re good.”

Again, silence.

Five slowly closed up the piano and dusted off his shorts with short brisk motions. Four still wasn’t leaving.

“Do you maybe, I don’t know, uh, want to listen to the album in my room? Just cause you seem to like it and all, I mean I’m guessing since you were playing it? Like, you don’t have too, and-”

Five studied the rambling boy closely, shockingly himself more than anyone with his agreement. Four looked at Five. Klaus’ eyes were wide, and although Five feigned casualness in his conduct, Five knew the stiffness in his shoulders gave himself away. Klaus could always read him better than he would have liked. He was more observant than most gave him credit for. 

“I’ll go back to my room then. Er, try not to scare me too badly when you teleport in. I have delicate sensibilities I’ll have you know!” 

And just like that, the strange off-kilter feeling that had been soaking the room was dispersed. Klaus smiled at him and left and Five sat there, frozen in place. 

He should have been furious, having his space invaded like that. The same way he noticed the absence of rage when Four rested his hand on Five’s shoulders in photo ops, here he noticed it again. It was strange the way Klaus could just walk into his personal bubble, even all the way back then. Though he did remember that the little slumber party Four’s music jam had turned into had marked the beginning of the “Fivey” nickname.

“Fivey?”

Five was instantly brought to the present, where he was face to face with the object of his musings. Their faces were too close, and Klaus’ face was twisted in concern. His breath reeked like a janitor’s closet and his pink lips looked soft. He thought with the wear and tear Four inflicted on his body, they would be chapped, or even scarred. 

“Are you okay buddy? Normally you’ve cussed me out at this point, what has you so tongue tied?” Suddenly, Klaus broke out in a cocky grin. He temporarily lost his balance for a moment, but caught himself in time, landing himself even further into Five’s personal space. “Don’t tell me you liked what you saw, you little minx you!”

Finally coming back to his senses, Five’s body went into overdrive.

“Fuck off!” Five yelled, choked as heat flooded his body. He went to say something, anything, but his teeth caught his lips and snagged, leaving him puttering, speechless. It was too warm. His face felt like it was on fire, all the way to the tips of his ears. He felt dizzy and out of focus, and the smell wasn’t helping. 

  
  
  


He was in Four’s old room. That fact hadn’t even reached his overloaded brain over the reality that he had almost _stuttered_. What was he, pathetic now, like Diego? Jesus Christ, he was really letting himself go these days. Seeming to realize where he was, he instantaneously prepared to jump again, mortified. Right before the energy peaked though, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes locked on something dusty and forgotten on top of Four’s window sill. Impulsively he grabbed it, feeling all the more bitter for it. 

Sitting in his room, Five sulked. He never heard footsteps in front of his door and he never got a knock on his door. Not that he would have answered, but this absence gave Five mixed feelings. It was just another reminder of how things had changed since they were kids. It would never be like it was. Still, Five remembered pink lips next to amber.

___________________________________________

The encounter had left Klaus confused to say the least. He wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing, as it was hard to picture Five with such a cute flustered expression. The alcohol made everything seem so floaty, so dreamy, and it wouldn’t be the first time he had let his mind run loose like that. But, he couldn’t dwell on it, he had a date to keep. Making his way haggardly up to his room, he packed a change of clothes, along with a few other _special_ odds and ends. He gave his room a once over and turned to leave, stopping mid-step. A little square was carved out of the dust. 

One of his CD’s had recently been taken. 

Huh.


	2. Derelict Junk and Burnt Paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five has had a few too many moments to himself, but reading helps pass the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this chapter as much and I might edit it later, but it's here. Come get y'alls juice. Just kidding, but thanks for the support. I wasn't expecting this to get nearly as much attention as it has, and it's fueled me to write way more than what I was planning. Funny how that works.

Oftentimes Five is alone in the mansion. He ran his finger along the spines of various books on the shelf before getting distracted by the sound coming from the other room. This was not one of those times. At least it wasn’t now. Klaus had been showing up here more and more frequently, but Five hadn’t really talked with him much. He preferred to observe from a distance, but he couldn’t lie and say he had completely resisted the temptation to mess with him. It was just too easy to fuck with Klaus while he was high. It was fun. He wasn’t sure Four remembered him afterwards, or even that Five was living in the mansion. This was something which probably directly coincided with Four crashing here more often. Or it could be because of his other siblings declining visit rates. No one could judge you for your problems if they never saw you, he supposed. Five turned his head back to the shelf, still listening, always aware of his surroundings. Klaus would probably be out cold soon judging by the sound of his mummerings. The fact he knew this was almost a comfort to Five. It spoke to routine, to regularity and intimacy, even if it was one sided. Five’s shoulders slumped.

Klaus probably had the wrong idea now that he was thinking about it. The one time they had run into each other face to face, Five had been, rather, indisposed. He had been _far_ down the well traveled road to getting plastered when Klaus had stumbled on him. 

Literally. 

Five had been laying on the floor by the liquor cabinet. In his defence, sitting up after drink number four had gotten difficult, and he hadn’t exactly been expecting company. He wished he could remember their conversation better, but he had seen Klaus and had promptly taken another shot. The last thing he could recall clearly was looking up at Four’s big confused puppy dog eyes, right after getting accidentally kicked in the ribs, and exacerbatingly stating- “Fuck.” So case in point he wasn’t sure what Klaus thought of him and Five wasn’t fond of the feeling. 

He could talk to Klaus. He scoffed to himself. He wasn’t really one to… hang out. Seeing his family less had made him consider the thought more than once though. Yet, he would argue himself down from acting so out of his character. It wasn’t like his siblings ever approached him or reached out to him. It was probably better for everyone that he kept his distance. They all had their own lives to lead, ones that he wasn’t really a part of, and he could respect that. It was nice to see them, that’s all. 

He walked to another bookcase, and continued to drag his finger along the novels. For the last few hours he had been reading, not out of any desire or interest, but more-so to kill time. He was bored, but reading was still rather _novel_. Ha. Finding books in the wasteland wasn’t common, and the rack of tombs that had remained in the abandoned ruins of the mansion often haunted him. If he had known that most books had burned, he would have grabbed a few more of his favorites while he had the chance. Not that he had time to read towards the end with his food supply constantly at a critical level, but the thought would have been motivating at least. Finger snagging, he stopped to look at what he would be reading next. The author was Vanya Hargreeves. It looked like it was going to be that kind of night. Just seeing it sitting innocuously on the shelf took him back.

Sometimes he thought that their family reunion would go differently. That they would hug him or usher him close, just for a moment. He obviously knew that was stupid, he wasn’t completely daft, but the idea had always been _nice_. It was a _nice_ thought to carry with him. He didn’t care that it most certainly hadn’t gone to plan- his family had always been a distinct collection of jackasses. It had been a dumb fantasy spewed from too many of Delores’ horrendous romance novels. The ache he felt was his own fault.

He pulled out the offending title and jumped to an oversized armchair. It was easy to curl within the corner of it, and by doing so he was mostly out of sight. Some habits die hard, and it never hurt to make one’s presence a little less known. He silently sighed as he looked down at the cover in his hands. It was the way sweet Vanya had written them maybe. She had marked them as hurt and lost and maybe that was how she saw them but he wasn’t sure that was completely true. It seems the six of them- no, five, shit,- had found their own little niche in society. One of them had never had the chance. The lot of them weren't by any means a healthy bunch, but they were not as aimless or broken as he had figured. They _were_ all still idiots though, that hadn’t changed. God, he wished that had changed. Having the Hargreeves name was a curse. Ben could attest to that. 

Looking at the pristine sheets of printed paper made him think of the wasteland. He couldn’t help but contrast the smell of a newer book to the tattered, burnt, pages of the novel he had carried for so many years with him. He had read it enough times to recite it by heart, like slam poetry. Hearing Klaus’ aimless ramblings made him wonder if the man would appreciate such an art. Klaus was always so unafraid to break norms like that. Funny how brave the cowardly one seemed to be. That diminished abrasive nature from regular customs even came through in Vanya’s book, with a note of approval at that. It seemed this was the one defining positive trait the siblings could begrudgingly assign to Klaus. He figured the apocalypse had made him eccentric in similar ways too, though he had hid it well from his alleged co-workers. Out there, he’d come across derelict junk that reminded him of his family. Delores had a phase in fashion modelling, and seeing her dress up in elaborate boas and flamboyant outfits had made his heart ache with the parallels. It wasn’t that different from now, though his spirit seemed to languish in new and exciting ways. Couldn’t have him getting used to his suffering now, could he. Coming back was still a trip.

Seeing Klaus in that dress had honestly blind-sided him. His first thought, despite his duties, had been that Delores paled in comparison. Klaus definitely wore it better. Of course the Hag had picked up on his thoughts and was particularly testy to him after, but she was often mad at him. Nothing new there. She had always been jealous of Klaus for reasons he couldn’t fathom. On one hand she desperately wanted to meet him, probably to tag-team Five to death, but she had always hated the way Four had etched his mark on Five. When he thought Delores was asleep, he would read and reread over and over again the words Vanya had left about Klaus. When he was feeling particularly self indulgent, he would study the section detailing when Five had left. Their reaction to his departure had always been bittersweet. 

In his personal copy, all he had to do was thumb the side of the book for it to open to that chapter. It took him a few seconds to find it now. 

“Other than myself, Four was probably the only other to fully understand my grief at Five’s absence. How could Klaus be blind when he felt it as much as I did? While I made my denial apparent through the endless peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches I would leave for Five’s return, Klaus was obvious in his silence. The class clown of the family was uncharacteristically muted. The lack of voice only seemed to accent Five’s death to us all. His vacant looks towards Five’s empty chair were poignant. In this one moment I distinctly remember Allison egging him on in an effort to reclaim some kind of control at normal I guess. I only recall it being sad. I was sad. Later, when Ben passed, we could gauge Klaus’ compulsive lying by his abilities marked at Five’s departure. 

Once Four reached a point of acceptance, we would occasionally see him trying to use his powers. Over the course of months, I saw him actually take his training seriously, something he had never done before. It became a nightly ritual, the subtle blue traces tinting his fists, but it was useless. It was a longer grieving process I think for Klaus because of his ability, and I sympathized with him for that. He would try over and over again to bring Five back. It never worked. It was late when I saw him talking with Father. Whatever they discussed ruined Four. I can still remember his face crumpling in front of Mr. Hargreaves, and in hindsight I know it must have been about bringing back Five. Maybe the lack of body was the issue like he claimed, but I always figured Klaus’ powers just weren't strong enough for that. His delusions with Ben I think are adequate proof to this claim. After that conversation Four began to disappear regularly. We later found out why. His drug and alcohol use spiralled out of control, making whatever potential he had die with Five. I suppose it was a final offering for our late brother.”

Five remembered where he was when he first read that. He remembered crying. He didn’t cry often, but he mourned Klaus over and over again. His body in the ruins had been scarred and mottled in a way that couldn’t be explained by training. Now he knew why. He buried his siblings with so many questions, and he had asked him redundantly why, as if Klaus’ powers could extend after death. To bad they didn’t work that way. 

He ran his hand over the words which so bluntly stumbled across such immense emotion. Putting his siblings to rest had taken over a week. At first Five had been in denial. He would admit to that. His arrogance led him to believe jumping back would only take a little bit of effort on his part, a little bit of elbow grease, and he’d be back to rub it into daddy dearest’s face. He had been a fool. He figured Mr. Hargreaves had a good laugh at his expense. Either that or he scorned the wasted investment. 

With no other choice, he had put his big boy pants the fuck on and laid his family to rest. Four had been the last and he hadn’t even known his name then. Klaus. Sometimes the word still felt strange on his tongue. He had done his best to dress Four into something he thought the other would approve of. He had held each of his siblings' hands before they went into the dirt. He had cusped Four’s rotting face. His skin had been eerily tacky to his fingers, and not cold. The earth was too smoldering to give them the coolness of death. He had seen the C-section scar on Allison. He had a niece he would learn later. He saw Luther's strange body. He had known what happened before he read about it. Five had looked day after day for Ben before finding the book, but the statue parts should have tipped him off. Staring at the collection of graves had been a monument to his hubris. 

Funerals were for the living afterall.

Despite the hours of labor in digging the tombs and moving them in, it was finding the words that came the hardest. Five had always struggled with that kind of vulnerability, and it seemed even at the ends of the world, without another fucker on the planet to hear him, he still struggled. It probably was one of the longest funerals in human history. In retrospect, denial was probably what kept him so long. With his home in ruins, leaving meant a kind of finality he wasn’t ready for. Yet in making the jump, ready or not, he had made his choice. Fuck ups didn’t care much for the idiot who wielded them. 

Finding Delores had made the process easier, and at the time she had been much more understanding. She had been gentle when coaxing him through the words and patient as he suppressed sob after sob. It was nice to not be judged for once. Eventually the damn burst, and she had politely ignored the pathetic way he had clutched the dirt over Four’s decaying corpse. He had deliriously wished a few seeds had survived the End, so his tears could let something grow over them. A simple desire to carry on their memory in the land of the living. But nothing was spared in the wasteland. Just him, carrying on without end, a living ghost in the ashes of society. Finding Vanya’s book had been a blessing. It gave him an avenue to carry them with him in a way he could rationalize objectively. If he was going to figure out what happened, the book would be important. Truthfully, he had needed a token of them to take with him, but carrying needless shit out there was nothing short of a death wish. He was eventually glad he had kept it for the long haul as irrational as it was. When he forgot what they looked like as kids, he could see their photos thanks to Vanya. Reading their words hurt, but losing them would have hurt more. At least he could still keep them close.

A sudden crash startled him. He made an aimless attempt to unwrinkle the page he had ripped slightly.

“Awwww maaaan,” Klaus whined distantly. “Not the radio. Fuuuuck.”

He catches his mouth smiling before he can compose himself. He had said something to that effect once, though admittedly with more of a temper-tantrum behind the words.

Power out in the all encompassing desert was a rare commodity, but not as much as one would think. So, because he was real sweet on Delores, he conceded to bringing the CD player from the mansion. At the time he didn’t have anything to play on the damn thing so it was just dead weight, but the opportunity to break the monotonous tone of wagon wheels on dirt was too good to miss. It ran using batteries and had a useless built in radio. He knew it was probably functional because the static it spewed out had to mean something was working. At least that’s what he told himself. He had to have some sort of goal beyond doing the impossible. Lugging it around wasn’t exactly a huge hardship, and he even found a compact CD case sleeve, giving the hunk of junk a promising future.

A few months passed and he had found everything but a damn CD. Cases, shards, even a complete box set of every season of Spongebob, but not a single regular ass music disc. Finding the pristine record vinyls had to be the Universe’s way of fucking with him. It took traversing a delaptiated highway for him to find the first sign of _something_ . Dead center, suspended above a dirt sea, was a small monument of car wreckage. He thought it looked like a modern pyramid. Did the pyramids even survive this whole shit-show? Probably not, quipped Delores. He hadn’t asked for her opinion, but she didn’t seem to catch the sarcasm in his thank you. Thank fuck for small favors. He absently hoped she wasn’t just waiting to have a conversation with him about his _behavior_ again before bed. That had been particularly unpleasant. 

His foot kicked something, skittering it a few feet away. He dropped the wagon handle and stepped over towards it. Figures. An empty CD case sat next to his shoes. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed a disjointed trail of holographic shards leading into the metal depths. He didn’t exactly have much to lose. 

“Careful!” Delores called from behind him. 

He waved hastily behind him to show he heard her and delved forward. 

Crawling in between the jagged protrusions of metal brought him fully into the remains of a minivan. The exterior had definitely seen better days, but the interior contents were mostly preserved. Jackpot. He overtly didn’t look too closely at the wedding band within the ashes and tattered debris. A quick perusal turned up a few boxes of protein bars, some kool aid packets, and by breaking open the glovebox, bingo, a full collection of CDs. Fucking finally. Thank you soccer mom. He took one out and stared at the cover.

He was taking back his thanks. He was getting _a full refund_. If it wasn’t for the food, this would have been worse than a waste of his time.

  
  


_Kidz Bop 37_ sat innocently between his fingers.

He hated it here.

His disgruntled mutterings were interrupted by Delores, ever the worrywart. He yelled out that he was fine, “Just stay put. Yes, I can say please, but it’s implied honey.” He groaned. “Fine, fucking god damn shit, _Please_ stay put. YOU HAPPY NOW? Dumb shit ass bitch...

The case around the disc cracked in his hand as he breathed daggers.

The noise drew his attention downwards. He can’t believe they managed to make thirty seven of these shitty albums. Honestly, he was a bit impressed. The marketing team for these must have been possessed. 

He refocused on the task at hand and began shoving the CDs into his rucksack. Something was better than nothing he somberly surmised. Yet, mid toss, he was drawn back to another absurdity in his hands.

“What are these?” His voice was shrill even to his own ears. “You couldn’t just wait for more shitty Kidz Bop content so you had to settle for knock offs? Jesus fucking Christ Lady, _Mini Pop Kids_? Sounds more like a shitty cereal. Am I really going to listen to these? Oh god. They would never let me live it down Delores. Well, they wouldn’t if they were alive.” He spat. 

Mood officially dampened, he selected the rest of the least damaged one’s and threw them in with rest. 

One short jump and a few minutes later, he had everything properly packed up. Next on the list was finding camp for the night. But before that, a promise was a promise. After reading off the meaningless titles from the paper backs, he looked towards his companion with a shrug, feeling damned regardless. Delores’ first request was [ Despacito ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFmW4LiIcF4). She always had an ear for shitty music- it was her kind to which the masses catered too. He had never been one for popular radio hits, and he doubted fifteen years of musical evolution would have changed that. At this point he was desperately hoping to get rick-rolled. According to the article he had read, the unpleasant surprise seemed infinitely preferable. He at least slightly tolerated Never Gonna Give You Up. It wasn’t a bad song. Delores scolded him for muttering, and he flipped her off when she wasn’t looking. 

After a while (read: a few hours travel), he developed an ear for some of it, a fact which earned him endless teasing from Delores. He swore never to hum to himself again. He wasn’t very successful. 

He could admit that having music was nice though. And more CDs would come eventually. He hoped. 

  
  


Five remembered making camp that night left him with a vague sense of hope. In his hands he held open the page he read that night, over and over again, remembering Klaus’ stupid trombone rendition of [ this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cM7ts89lkrM) song. He wasn’t even sure he had heard the real version of it at this point. Knowing his luck, it was probably shit too. Listening to the older Kidz Bop albums was preferable to the newer ones seeing as he actually could recognize the songs, but going through them in order almost gave him… a sense of growth? It was the music his siblings would have lived through, and the compositions abstractly reflected that change. Society transformed dramatically around them, but he never got to see it. He could honestly only guess how the world had shaped them, and the thought made him feel archaic. Vanya’s book helped him inch closer, but it was like looking through glass. There was a disconnect. It didn’t help that he was somehow both dramatically older _and_ younger than his siblings. Time travel was a fucking headache, ego notwithstanding. It was his own personal headache, which was probably for the best since he was the most capable, but that didn’t mean he wanted that responsibility. He had done a pretty good job of royally fucking it up regardless. 

Five closed the book and threw his head back over the arm of the chair. It was quiet. He looked over towards the other room, his view flipped upside down. Klaus looked so much like the one he had buried. It was a sobering thought, and he found himself getting up before he could psych himself out of it. He jumped into the main room, only to find it empty. He scanned it carefully while walking the perimeter. Distractedly, he closed an open cabinet and noticed a pair of shoes by the door. So Klaus was still here. Five had around forty seconds to act before he changed his mind, so he hastily made his way up the stairs towards Four’s room. 

Faced with the closed door of Klaus’ bedroom, he hesitated. He tiptoed closer and placed an ear up against the wood. It was quiet. Well, it was now or never. He jumped in cautiously to find Klaus haggardly passed out mostly on his bed. One leg seemed to be gravitating towards the floor, but that was pretty normal for him. A few half empty bottles of hard liquor had made their way into the room and had subsequently populated the place. Klaus would be feeling them tomorrow. 

Five stared at the sleeping man. He was so still in rest. Compared to his animated nature when awake, this stagnation unnerved Five. A hair in front of Four’s mouth moved slightly with his breath. Trepidation rushed out of Five in a flood. He felt rather silly. Klaus was drooling slightly into his comforter. Distantly, he found that to be endearing. As if tuned in to Five’s earlier thought, Klaus’ brows furrowed as he nuzzled deeper into the old blanket. Right, the hangover. Just this once, he figured he could give to Four what he wished he could wake up to. He had felt _awful_ the morning after his previous drunken rendezvous with Klaus. Not that the man particularly deserved his care, but he was feeling charitable. 

He jumped to the bathroom, nabbed a couple painkillers and then jumped back. Rolling his eyes at himself, he grabbed an old forgotten glass that seemed relatively clean from the nightstand and made a similar trip, returning with some water. There you fucking go, Five thought to himself. It carried no heat. He shivered in the darkened room. Must be a draft. 

The wasteland had been cold at night. 

He picked up a blanket from the floor and curtly shook it out. Good enough. Turning towards Klaus, he saw movement. On instinct he chucked the blanket towards it. 

Congratulations Five fucking Hargreaves, you threw a blanket at a sleeping man who turned over. Wowza! Good work, we’ll review you for promotion and get back to you later. 

The annoyance at himself faded rapidly though, as the nagging tendril of anxiety reminded him that he could no longer see that hair move in front of Klaus’ face with him turned away. Logically, he was aware it was stupid. No amount of reason would prevail over that vulnerability. Experience told him this to be true and Delores wasn’t around to sooth him. He was so very tired of missing people. Especially now that they could be right there, within a tangible reach.

  
  


He creeped over and tentatively placed his palm to Klaus’ cheek. It was warm. Different. Humid air passed by Five’s fingers. The flesh wasn’t flakey or tacky. It was pliable and responsive. It sprung back when poked. It was enough. 

  
  


______________________________

  
  
  


Klaus woke up. That was his first mistake. His body deemed it incredibly important to punish him for this lapse in judgement by the wake of a pain rave in his head. Joy.

Creaking an eye open, he dared look upon the light. His sunlit room seemed like a hellscape at the moment. Yet, there was no time like the present according to his stomach. Double joy. 

As he sat up, his blanket fell down from his shoulders to cradle his waist. Normally he woke up cold, so this was a nice change of pace. It wasn’t like drunken Klaus to be so kind. Reaching, slowly, ever the fuck slowly, into a sitting position, his stomach lurched before settling. Cool, sitting up had been accomplished with minor fanfare. He was on a roll this morning. He smacked his dry, dry lips together. His tongue felt like sandpaper. Well, that set up his next course of action. Small, baby steps.

His eyes finally adjusted enough for him to visually scout his room for hydration. They landed on the glass of water on his nightstand, And, hey, were those pain pills? Yeah, no, black out drunk or not, he didn’t do that. He felt every single hair on the back of his neck go on edge. Oh god, he was far too hungover for a spooky mystery. 

“It was Five, if you were wondering.”

Klaus jumped at Ben’s voice, the taste of bile immediately rushing to great him for taking the action. And he had been doing so well too.

“Shit, I think I threw up in my mouth a little.” Klaus punctuated his claim with a gassy burp.

“Good for you.” 

Ben was silent for a moment before scrunching his face in concern.

“He looked like a wild animal with how skittish he was acting.” 

“Weird....” Klaus took a moment to let the information sink in. “Wait, did you say Five actually decided to play nanny?” He turned his head too quickly to look incredulously at his ethereal companion, but thankfully his gastrointestinal tract decided to grant him a pardon. “Why?”

“I have no idea. He just… I dunno, he seemed lost.” Ben “scratched” his cheek thoughtfully. “You turned over and he spooked so badly I thought he was going to keel over like those goats. You know the ones, we saw the video last week. Please tell me you remember, they were great!”

“Benny boy, focus, please. And yes, before you ask again, I remember. I hope you know dredging up that memory dealt ten hit points of mental damage. Blugh.” Klaus hunched over and stuck his tongue out. Ben supposed he did look rather pale.

“He wasn’t exactly coordinated with his caretaker chores. He had to make multiple trips for like, no reason. It really wasn’t like him.” Ben chose his next words carefully. “He kept looking at you like he would turn around and you’d be gone.” His words carried a tone of finality. He eyed the liquor bottles disdainfully. 

An unreadable expression flickered on Klaus’ face, before it was replaced with his usual brand of cynical cheer. Klaus laughed, but it seemed forced.

“Aaaww, little Fivey misses me!” Ben rolled his eyes and mentally sighed. Of course. 

The morning’s discussion was dismissed as Klaus pushed his luck in getting up, leading to the more traditional morning routine. The bathroom toilet welcomed him with open arms. 

A morning came and went, and Klaus was making his way out the door, but he hesitated. Pulling out an old receipt from god knows where, he scrounged the lounge for a pen.

Later, Five would wake up and notice an odd paper by the coffee maker. On his way to refill, he’d actually bother to read it.

“Thank You Fivey!!!!!” it would read in a distinct chicken scratch, as if the hearts and dopey faces wouldn’t give the sender away. Five would smile, although he would deny that if pressed. It marked a change.

Klaus came back that night mostly sober. Mostly.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make it known that I loop music relating to the chapter on repeat while while I write. I suffered as much as Five. Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Did I do research of popular emo music based on the year those two would have been twelve? Yeah, and I found a bop through it so it was totally worth it.


End file.
